We create our own demons, that has never been more evident than today. We give our demons the weapons to hurt us, we run from them, we cry as they strike us, we bleed as they kill us. No demon want’s to be what it is, they’re just tortured souls, one’s that we tortured, one’s that we twisted into beasts of our own self destruction. I hated you, I cursed you, I cried because of you. You burned me alive, yet now I realize, as the flames scorched me, you were drowning, because of me. I was your pain, I was your torment, I was drowning you, I was your demon. We built each other, crafter beings of our own torment, because we subconsciously felt we deserved it. While I bled at your claws, you were being strangled by my hands. We bared our hearts to one another, and gleefully tried to tear each other apart.
I always felt I was the victim, but I guess, now I see I was only one of them. Demons are just tortured souls, I think we’ve tormented each other enough now. It’s time to just move on. But before we do, I just want to say. I am sorry. I am sorry for all the pain I unknowingly caused you. I’m sorry for tearing your mind apart. I hope you’re sorry for what you did too. I don’t know if you are, I’ll never really know. But it doesn’t change the fact that, I am sorry.
Consider me a demon no more.
51 Things I learned in College
Be motivated or I will annoy you forever -_-
Tomorrow’s my sister’s 17th birthday. It’s kind of a tradition in our family that when you turn 17 you get a plant of some sort. One that will continue to grow stronger and bigger as you yourself grow. When I turned 17 I was given a beautiful Cherry Blossom Tree. It blooms every May for my birthday. When my sister turns 17 tomorrow she will be given a Holly Bush. It will be red with berries every year for her birthday. I really hope she likes it. It’s a shame that I’ll not be there to see her get it.
This is my favourite tradition in the family. If I ever have kids, I’m carrying it on.
In ten years, when I look back on my life, what on earth am I going to think of my choices? I hope I’m still living with a, ‘no regrets’ mentality. I hope I’m still having fun as much as possible. I hope I am happy with my life thus far.
Tonight was the night, when most of my old school year would have been out in our local town, but I couldn’t do it. Not this year. Last year was a tragedy, I couldn’t commit myself to that again. I don’t understand it, I’ve no fear of the big bad city and I navigate university life with ease, but put me back here, in this place, and it’s like none of that matters. People here still have that power over me, the ability to make me feel like I’m nothing. Drop me in this town and I’m lost, no, worse than that, I’m undone.
I was just browsing through my photo-booth and I realised I had some really great photo’s of the last year.
"Do not worry about that which you cannot change."
I’m always running, why am I always running? Why am I so scared of commitment in any form. Why do I just want to leave my life and wander the world? Then I’d be living with a thousand acquaintances but no one close enough to hurt me. I need to stop, I can’t just keep running. But, it’s like second nature now, I’m so used to moving. How do I stop? It seems, just, all wrong. Stopping is bad, life has beaten that message into me. Do not stop for anything, don’t let anything hold you down. Or it will never let you go.
Wouldn’t it be cool, if every single one of us had a unique melody, that played around us softly wherever we went and whatever we did. It would be like theme music. When you got along with someone the songs would harmonise. When you argued, the tunes would clash. When you were happy the tempo would quicken, when you were sad the melody would slow. While hopeful, a rallying chorus would take place, while fearful, the tune would become sharp and jumpy.
Everything would sound so pretty, until of course we all went mad from the ceaseless noise.